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Jungkook had only gone to the shelter because Jimin wouldn’t shut up about it.
“They’re overcrowded,” he’d said. “You have a whole apartment. You could give one of them a chance.”
Jungkook had raised a brow. “I don’t know the first thing about hybrids.”
“You’ll learn,” Jimin shrugged, shoving him through the doors.
It’s the quiet that makes Jungkook stop.
He’s only halfway through the shelter hallway, following the sound of a staff member’s polite but distracted chatter, when he sees him: a lone figure tucked into the far corner of the common room, curled so tightly into himself he almost disappears into the oversized beanbag he’s slumped in.
A pair of black feline ears twitch against dark brown curls, low to his head, alert but subdued, like he’s listening for danger rather than welcome.
His tail is curled tight around his side, tip flicking once every few seconds in a slow, irritable rhythm.
The laminated card zip-tied to the metal crate near his feet reads:
NAME: Taehyung
AGE: 21
SPECIES: Feline Hybrid
NOTES: Extremely shy. Dislikes loud noises. Prefers quiet environments. Will warm up slowly with patience and consistency.
Jungkook doesn’t know why he lingers. He’s already seen several hybrids that might have been “easier”, a golden retriever girl who immediately tried to climb into his lap, a fox hybrid that winked at him from behind a scratching post. The others had been bright-eyed and loud, their attention magnetic, their need for affection worn proudly on their sleeves.
But this one…
This one hasn’t looked up once.
Hey there,” Jungkook says softly, crouching beside the beanbag with careful intent, keeping his voice low and body language relaxed. He doesn’t reach out. Doesn’t move any closer than necessary. “Can I sit with you for a second?”
No response. Just that slow, twitching tail. The smallest flick of one ear.
So Jungkook stays.
-
Fifteen minutes later, Jungkook is standing at the front desk, signing papers.
The volunteer blinks at him. “You’re taking Taehyung?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, nodding once.
“You know he doesn’t talk, right?”
“I figured,” he replies, glancing toward the back where the hybrid still sits in his beanbag, head tilted slightly as if listening. “He doesn’t have to. I can wait.”
The volunteer gives him a half-smile, unsure. “Most people don’t last more than a week.”
Jungkook just signs his name a little firmer.
“Then I guess I’m not most people.”
The first few days are quiet.
Taehyung barely leaves the guest room. He pads silently down the hall every morning to grab a clean glass of water, always using the same one, always washing it carefully when he’s done. He eats the food Jungkook leaves out for him. Usually late at night, long after Jungkook has retreated to his own room. But... he doesn’t speak, doesn’t initiate, doesn’t linger.
And Jungkook doesn’t pressure him.
He’s read enough about hybrids to know that feline types can be extremely sensitive, especially the ones who’ve been passed from home to home, treated more like novelty pets than people. Taehyung’s file had mentioned something vague about "previous trauma," but no one had elaborated.
Jungkook doesn’t need the details.
He sees it in the way Taehyung flinches when a cupboard door closes too loud. In the way he freezes when Jungkook walks behind him too quickly. The way his ears flatten when his name is said too suddenly.
So Jungkook makes it easy.
He moves slower in the mornings. Switches from clattering pans to pre-cut meals. Starts leaving little notes instead of calling out. Simple things like: “I made soup. You can heat it if you want.”
“The laundry’s running. Your towel’s on the top rack.”
“No pressure, but I’m watching a movie tonight if you want to sit with me.”
At first, there’s no reply.
Then one evening, Jungkook walks into the living room and finds Taehyung already there.
He’s curled in the far corner of the couch, blanket bunched around his legs, a half-eaten piece of banana bread on the coffee table beside him.
He’s not looking at Jungkook. But his ears are perked.
Waiting.
Jungkook sits slowly beside him, one cushion of space between them, and presses play on the movie without saying a word.
The next few weeks settle into something close to a rhythm, one that isn’t quite comfortable but isn’t tense anymore either. Taehyung still moves like someone expecting the world to snap beneath his feet, but he doesn’t jump when Jungkook walks into the room now. He doesn’t avoid eye contact, either,at least, not all the time. He has this quiet way of watching, like he’s memorizing Jungkook’s habits when he thinks he’s not being seen. The way he always ties his hoodie strings into messy knots when he’s thinking. How he hums softly when he’s cooking without even realizing it. Taehyung notices everything, even when he doesn’t say a word.
Jungkook notices too.
He sees how Taehyung’s ears tilt toward his voice when he talks, even if Taehyung doesn’t answer. How his tail starts to relax, laying flat and sleepy across the couch when he’s settled. The way his purring starts now, not from being pet or coaxed, but simply from being near. That’s new. And it makes something warm stir deep in Jungkook’s chest, a kind of careful pride mixed with something softer he doesn’t dare name yet.
One night, maybe three weeks after the movie, Taehyung does something small but seismic.
He’s sitting beside Jungkook on the couch again, tucked into a corner, legs folded beneath him like always. His sweater sleeves are pulled over his hands, and he’s chewing on the edge of one, absent-minded, not nervous. and Jungkook is scrolling through his laptop, reading something about hybrid-friendly plants because Taehyung seems to like green things but always looks hesitant around the ones with flowers.
Then, all of a sudden, Jungkook feels something soft brush against the side of his hand.
It’s Taehyung’s tail.
It curls gently around his wrist, light and slow like it’s testing the waters, and Jungkook doesn’t move for several seconds because he’s sure if he breathes too hard, the moment will be over.
But Taehyung doesn’t pull away. If anything, the tail tightens just a little, not enough to restrain, just enough to say, I’m here. I’m letting you in.
Jungkook glances at him. “You okay?”
Taehyung’s eyes are trained on the TV, like he’s trying to pretend nothing is happening, but the tips of his ears are pink, and there’s a fluttery kind of tension in his posture. Nervous, maybe, but not scared.
He nods. Once. Slowly.
And Jungkook, sensing the weight of this small offering, doesn’t ruin it by teasing or asking for more. He just lets his fingers shift slightly, brushing against the fur of Taehyung’s tail, stroking down the length in soft, rhythmic motions that make the hybrid sigh so quietly it’s almost inaudible.
He purrs the entire time.
After that, things start to change in ways Jungkook doesn’t even realize until they’re already habits.
Taehyung gravitates toward him more openly now. Quiet, sure, but present. He’ll walk into the kitchen when Jungkook’s cooking and lean against the counter, watching without saying much but always close enough that their arms almost brush. He starts sitting beside Jungkook instead of across from him at the table. And one day, without comment, he brings his blanket into Jungkook’s room and curls up on the end of his bed while Jungkook works on his laptop. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t explain. Just lays down, purring softly, and falls asleep with his tail draped over Jungkook’s ankle like an anchor.
Jungkook doesn’t question it. He just lets it happen.
Because the truth is, he likes it.
He likes the way Taehyung’s presence makes the apartment feel less empty. The way the silence isn’t uncomfortable anymore, just quiet in the kind of way that says you don’t have to speak to be heard here. And yeah, maybe he also likes the way Taehyung leans into his touch now, soft and pliant and warm, purring like a motor whenever Jungkook cards his fingers through his hair or scratches behind his ears.
He especially likes when Taehyung makes those tiny, contented sounds. The sleepy huffs, the breathy little sighs. And if he thinks about it too long, he realizes he’s probably in trouble.
Because it’s not just affection anymore.
It’s want.
The first time Taehyung kisses him, it’s not really a kiss.
They’re sitting on the couch, again, always the couch, like some part of both of them knows that crossing the threshold of Jungkook’s bedroom would mean something more. And Jungkook’s just finished running his hand down Taehyung’s spine in slow, deliberate strokes, the way he knows the hybrid likes best. Taehyung is half-asleep from it, purring steadily, his eyes half-lidded and dreamy.
He shifts slightly, turning toward Jungkook with a loose-limbed kind of grace that makes his oversized sweater slide down one shoulder. His eyes meet Jungkook’s for a second, lingering just a little too long, and then he leans in, slow, careful, and presses his lips to the corner of Jungkook’s mouth.
It’s barely there. A soft, brushing thing. But it makes Jungkook freeze.
Taehyung pulls back instantly, eyes wide like he’s waiting to be scolded or shoved away, and his ears twitch once like he’s already preparing for disappointment.
But Jungkook just blinks at him, heart thudding.
“…You kissed me.”
Taehyung opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again.
“I didn’t mean— I just— You were being really gentle, and I felt…”
He trails off, cheeks pink, eyes darting to the blanket like it might save him.
Jungkook swallows, throat suddenly dry.
“Hey,” he says, softer now, and he reaches out to gently cup the side of Taehyung’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “You don’t ever have to explain wanting something. Especially not with me.”
Taehyung leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering slightly.
His voice is so quiet it’s barely more than breath.
“I do want.”
Jungkook’s fingers still against his skin.
“Want what, baby?”
Taehyung’s lips part like he might say something, then falter. His ears twitch again, uncertain. But his body leans forward anyway, slow and trembling, and this time, when he presses his lips to Jungkook’s, it’s not a question.
It’s a request.
And Jungkook answers it.
He kisses him back, warm and slow, letting the moment stretch and deepen without rushing, just the gentle press of lips and the soft, shared breath between them. Taehyung melts into it, body folding inward like he’s been waiting to be held, kissed, claimed in a way that isn’t about ownership but something far more vulnerable, like trust.
When Jungkook finally pulls back, just far enough to look at him, Taehyung’s pupils are wide and dark, his cheeks flushed, lips pink and kiss-bruised.
He’s panting, a little.
And he looks like he might cry.
“Is this okay?” Jungkook whispers, hand still cupping his cheek.
Taehyung nods, slow and sure, and when he speaks, it’s barely audible.
“I want you to touch me. Please.”
Taehyung’s voice is breathy and thin, barely there, but the look in his eyes is anything but unsure. He’s blushing, yes, and his ears are flicking with nerves, but he’s leaning in, not away. His whole body drawn toward Jungkook like a magnet that’s been trying to hold itself back for far too long.
Jungkook doesn’t move right away.
He studies Taehyung’s face. Every twitch of his ears, every shallow breath, every blink of his wide golden eyes. He gives him space to take it back, to flinch or second-guess. But Taehyung doesn’t.
He presses forward, just enough to rest his forehead against Jungkook’s shoulder, and lets out the tiniest, neediest sigh.
“I haven’t wanted like this before,” he says quietly. “Not with anyone.”
Jungkook exhales slowly, hand sliding from Taehyung’s cheek to the back of his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair just below his ears.
“You don’t have to be afraid with me.”
“I’m not,” Taehyung whispers. “I just don’t know how to ask for what I want yet.”
Jungkook leans in, presses a kiss to his temple, and lets his lips linger there for a beat longer than necessary.
“Then I’ll listen. You don’t have to say everything. Just stay with me.”
Taehyung kisses like he’s afraid he’ll be pulled away any second. He kisses like he’s starving.
Like this is something he’s craved for a long, long time but never let himself taste until now.
And Jungkook lets him have it.
He doesn’t take over immediately. Doesn’t rush. He lets Taehyung climb into his lap slowly, straddling his thighs on the couch with hesitant hands pressed to his chest. Lets the hybrid kiss him over and over, messy and wet, needy and shy, until Taehyung is panting against his mouth, whimpering every time their hips shift and rub just enough to tease.
“You’re so warm,” Taehyung breathes, voice shaking. “You smell so good, Jungkook, it’s making me dizzy.”
Jungkook smiles softly, brushing a thumb over the flush high on Taehyung’s cheekbone. “You’re the one purring like a motor, baby.”
Taehyung lets out a shy, flustered laugh, burying his face in Jungkook’s neck. “I can’t help it.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Jungkook presses his hands to Taehyung’s waist, feeling the subtle tremble in his thighs, the instinctive twitch of his tail brushing against Jungkook’s side. He leans in and kisses behind one of Taehyung’s ears, slow and deliberate, then traces down the curve of his neck with his mouth.
Taehyung gasps, and his hips jerk.
“Sensitive here?” Jungkook murmurs.
Taehyung nods helplessly, clutching at Jungkook’s shirt. “Yeah. Really sensitive.”
“Good.”
Jungkook slides one hand down, under the hem of Taehyung’s sweater, dragging his fingers up the soft skin of his back. Taehyung arches into the touch like it’s instinct, his thighs trembling on either side of Jungkook’s.
“Can I take this off you?” Jungkook asks, voice low. “I want to see you.”
Taehyung nods quickly, then hesitates. “Wait—”
“Slow?” Jungkook asks gently.
Taehyung nods again. “Can you help me?”
That tiny question does something to Jungkook’s chest, makes his heart ache with how much trust is bundled inside those four little words. He pulls the sweater up carefully, watching Taehyung’s expression the entire time, then slips it off over his head and sets it aside.
Taehyung is shaking a little, arms crossed shyly over his chest, ears flicking anxiously.
Jungkook just cups his face and kisses him again, slow and sure.
“You’re so beautiful, Tae.”
Taehyung melts.
They make their way to the bedroom not long after, though it’s less about urgency and more about the desire to feel safe, to have space to breathe and stretch and savor.
Jungkook lays him down on the sheets like he’s made of something precious, not fragile. Something worth worshipping.
Taehyung looks up at him, golden eyes wide and vulnerable, tail curled loosely beside his thigh.
“I want to feel everything,” he whispers. “I want you to show me.”
Jungkook kisses his chest, then lower, his mouth soft against each inch of skin he uncovers. He’s not in a hurry. He wants to learn every little noise Taehyung makes, every way his body reacts to being seen and adored and touched like this.
He lets his hands explore, mapping the lines of Taehyung’s ribs, the slight dip of his waist, the curve of his hips. He watches the way Taehyung shivers when his fingers trace over the base of his tail.
“Here too?” he asks.
Taehyung bites his lip, cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Feels… really good. But I’m shy about it.”
“You don’t have to be,” Jungkook says, pressing a kiss right above it. “I’ll go slow.”
And he does.
He trails his fingers along Taehyung’s thighs, coaxing him open, whispering soft praises like he’s laying down petals:
“You’re doing so good for me.”
“Such a perfect kitty.”
“Making the sweetest sounds, baby.”
Taehyung moans at that last one, high-pitched and breathless, thighs trembling around Jungkook’s hips. His claws have started to peek from the tips of his fingers. something Jungkook knows happens when hybrids get overstimulated but he hasn’t stopped purring once.
“Please, Jungkook,” he whispers, hips shifting helplessly. “Please touch me there.”
Jungkook strokes him slowly, wrapping his hand around him and pumping with gentle pressure, watching the way Taehyung gasps and squirms beneath him.
“So sensitive,” Jungkook murmurs. “Is this what you’ve been needing?”
Taehyung nods frantically, biting his knuckle.
“Don’t hide your sounds,” Jungkook says, voice firm but kind. “I want to hear all of them.”
And Taehyung listens.
He cries out softly, back arching, tail twitching wildly as Jungkook touches him like he’s something sacred. The way he keens when Jungkook leans down to kiss his inner thigh should be illegal. The way his voice breaks when Jungkook finally mouths at him, slow and unhurried, is something Jungkook will dream about for years.
“Jungkook—fuck, wait—feels so good, but I—” Taehyung gasps, trying to hold back.
“You close already, baby?”
Taehyung nods, body shaking.
“Let go for me,” Jungkook says. “You’ve been good. Let me take care of you.”
And with a soft whine, Taehyung does.
He comes hard, body curling, voice cracking in the most beautiful way, and Jungkook strokes him through it, whispering praise the entire time, kissing his stomach and hips, licking him clean like he’s trying to put him back together piece by piece.
Taehyung looks dazed, blissed-out, flushed and blinking slowly.
“You okay?” Jungkook asks, brushing the hair back from his forehead.
“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes, lips parting in a dreamy smile. “Better than okay. That was… that was everything.”
Jungkook leans down and kisses him sweetly, warmly.
“You’re everything,” he whispers. “And you’re mine now, okay?”
Taehyung’s ears twitch. His tail curls around Jungkook’s thigh.
“Yeah,” he whispers back. “All yours.”
Taehyung, on his back with his flushed chest rising and falling gently, stretches one leg beneath the covers and lets it bump against Jungkook’s knee. His tail is still curling lazily around his thigh, relaxed in a way Jungkook hadn’t seen since the day they met. Maybe ever.
“Did I overdo it?” Jungkook asks, voice quieter now, threaded with warmth and a bit of caution.
“No,” Taehyung says immediately, not even opening his eyes. “I feel like jelly. But like… the good kind. Expensive jelly in a glass jar.”
Jungkook laughs, short and warm, his hand settling lightly on Taehyung’s stomach. “That’s a hell of a review.”
“You deserve a review,” Taehyung murmurs, finally opening his eyes. They’re hazy and gold and affectionate in a way that makes Jungkook’s chest ache. “That was the first time someone’s touched me like I was… worth something.”
Jungkook frowns, brushing his fingers slowly across Taehyung’s side. “You’re worth everything.”
Taehyung swallows. His eyes flicker down, like it’s still hard to meet that kind of honesty head-on.
“I didn’t think it would feel like that,” he says quietly. “Like I was safe. I thought wanting someone meant giving something up, but… you made me feel full, not empty.”
Jungkook leans down and kisses the edge of his mouth, slow and lingering.
“You didn’t give anything up. You gave yourself permission to want. That’s not weakness, Tae.”
There’s a long pause, one of those silences that’s full of weight, like something unspoken is finally settling into its place. Taehyung’s hand finds Jungkook’s beneath the blanket and threads their fingers together, holding tight.
“Can I ask something kind of… weird?”
Jungkook smiles softly. “Anything.”
“Will you hold me after?” Taehyung says. “Like, all night. Like… you want to.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer.
He just pulls him closer, wraps both arms around his waist, and fits them together under the blanket like they were made to sleep like this. Taehyung nestles in instantly, tucking his head beneath Jungkook’s chin, his ear brushing his collarbone. He lets out a long, warm purr, chest rumbling against Jungkook’s.
“I’ve never had this before,” he whispers, almost too quietly to hear. “Not even just the sex. also the… the after. The part where you’re allowed to stay.”
“Well, you’re staying,” Jungkook says, voice firm but gentle. “As long as you want. As long as it takes.”
Taehyung shivers a little, not from cold, but from something deeper. From the kind of relief that feels dangerous because it makes you realize how long you went without it.
“I think I want to be yours,” he says eventually, sleepy and vulnerable and so, so soft. “I mean… really yours. Not just tonight.”
Jungkook’s fingers stroke down the back of his neck, brushing the base of his ears, and he can feel how Taehyung melts under it, purring louder, like he’s already halfway gone with how good it feels to be touched and told he belongs.
“You are,” Jungkook says quietly. “You’re mine. And if you want it… I’ll mark you.”
Taehyung pulls back just enough to look up at him, blinking slowly. “Mark me?”
“Not like an owner,” Jungkook clarifies. “Like a partner. Just… something small. Something that says you’re loved. That you’re wanted.”
Taehyung smiles, lazy and content. “That sounds perfect.”
Jungkook kisses his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then finally his lips not lustful anymore but possessive in the way people kiss when they know they’ll get to kiss again tomorrow. And the day after. And the one after that.
They fall asleep wrapped around each other. Taehyung’s tail curls up between their legs, and Jungkook keeps one hand on his hip the whole night like a promise.
when morning comes,
Jungkook lets his hand wander gently through the hybrid’s soft, tousled hair, fingertips tracing behind his ears, across the back of his neck, down to the place where fur meets skin.w
“Tae,” Jungkook murmurs, voice low and gentle. “You awake?”
Taehyung lets out a tiny huff, nuzzling deeper against him. “Mm... kind of.”
“I want to give you something.”
That gets Taehyung’s attention. His ears twitch, lifting a little, and he blinks up at Jungkook with sleepy curiosity.
Jungkook shifts, reaching over to his nightstand drawer, careful not to dislodge the boy on top of him. When he turns back, there’s a small velvet box in his hand.
Taehyung sits up slowly, blinking harder now, tail curling behind him with a soft, fluttery motion.
“What is it?”
Jungkook opens the box without a word.
Inside is a collar.
But not like the ones Taehyung’s seen before. not the sterile nylon straps with printed ID numbers from the shelters. This one is handmade soft matte leather in a warm, dusky rose color, with a delicate silver buckle and a charm shaped like a tiny crescent moon. The inner lining is velvet. There’s no tag. Just a small engraving on the underside of the buckle, only visible up close.
It reads:
Jungkook's beloved.
Taehyung stares at it for a long time, his eyes wide and almost watery.
“You made this?”
Jungkook nods, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly a little shy. “Yeah. Took me a while to get it right. I didn’t want to… ask too soon, or make you feel like you had to accept it.”
He looks up, meeting Taehyung’s gaze. “But this isn’t about ownership. Or control. It’s a promise. That you’re wanted. That you’re mine, if you still want to be.”
Taehyung’s lips tremble, and his ears slowly tilt forward, soft and open in the way they only are when he feels absolutely safe.
“I do want to be,” he whispers. “I’ve never wanted anything like this.”
“Then let me put it on you.”
Taehyung nods, cheeks glowing pink, and crawls into Jungkook’s lap without hesitation, settling with his thighs straddling either side of his waist. He tips his chin up, baring his throat instinctively, golden eyes fluttering shut.
Jungkook’s hands are steady as he fastens it gently around Taehyung’s neck, checking that it fits perfectly.not too tight, but snug, resting against the skin with a kind of quiet finality. He strokes his fingers over the leather once it’s buckled, then cups the hybrid’s face and kisses his forehead.
“You look so good in it,” he murmurs. “So perfect.”
Taehyung whimpered and buries his face in Jungkook’s shoulder, arms winding tight around him.
“You really want me like this?”
Jungkook smiles into his hair.
“Like this. Always.”